Reading the Omens
A chorus of voices called, No!
when I reached for the latch
Don’t let her out, she’ll die.
A monarch hatched from the rafters.
Her orange and black wings a mirror
to the hot coals that waked her.
A trail of twisted cobweb sported flies
as if it were a kite tail tied with bows
and she ready to be launched to the sky.
Though we turned away,
she is with me still, as
I plan for the days ahead.
Take this as written:
when my time comes,
to hatch from this body
I want you to open the window.
First published in Boyne Berries 18, in the autumn of 2015
Published online at Trevor Conway’s website; Poems in Profile #17 (April, 2016-07-15)
Let Morning Come
(after Jane Kenyon)
Let the street lamps blink out,
the lights of…
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